


Tsubaki

by cloverfield



Series: Nabari no Youkai [2]
Category: Nabari no Ou
Genre: Ame-Onna and Ame-Otoko, Blood and Gore, Crying, Gau Needs To Not Die, Grief, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Kitsune, M/M, Near Death Experience, Possessive Behaviour, Raikou Needs A Hug, Trauma, Who's Afraid Of The Big Bad Kitsune, Youkai, supernatural themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:36:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22101931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverfield/pseuds/cloverfield
Summary: Gau wakes up.
Relationships: Meguro Gau/Shimizu Raikou
Series: Nabari no Youkai [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590841
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	Tsubaki

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whosthathufflepuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whosthathufflepuff/gifts).



“I want to be by your side,” says Gau gently, and something in Raikou cracks open like the dam bursting before the flood.

“Raikou-san,” says Gau, and Raikou chokes, gasps, _sobs_ at last, all the threads of his control snap-snap-snapping in fraying breaths. Tears come hot and fast and unstoppable as his own fingers tangle in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp as he trembles, caught on the precipice of wanting to touch and the tumbling fear of breaking something – _someone_ – so precious in his clawing hold.

He came so close to madness, in these days without Gau – those days gone now that Gau is _awake_ – and the heart in Raikou’s chest shivers and burns with the thought of how easily Gau could have died, and at his own hands: but then to be dragged back from death’s own shores (by the blackening hands of a shinigami no less) is exactly the kind of ridiculous ethereal bullshit only _Gau_ could pull off, even with one foot sinking quick into those dark waters.

“Raikou-san?” says Gau again, just soft enough to be a question. “Will you come closer?”

Raikou hiccups back snot, wiping his nose inelegantly on his sleeve, fingers twitching urgent with all the instinctual urges he must suppress. The fox in his brain is whining, shrieking, screaming greedy demands ( _ours ours ours catch him close keep him safe never let him go_ ) and wanting burns like foxfire beneath his skin, itching with the need to snatch Gau up into his arms and squeeze him so tight that they meld into one being entirely.

There are parts of Raikou that are dark and loathsome things, covetous as only a kitsune can be; parts of him that boil with the kind of possession that leads to hunger, as though Gau is something that should be _devoured_ , swallowed up whole by such a consuming love that the cage of Raikou’s ribs would hold him safely captive from here unto death and even into the yawning beyond–

–and _Gau_ , Gau looks upon these wretched parts, the unwholesome things that Raikou would hide about himself, Gau looks upon Raikou as he is beneath the skin and the fur and the fire and into the deepest parts of himself where he has been burning since that night not so long ago, Gau _looks_ and Gau _sees_ and Gau _knows_ and he still, he still _smiles._

“Please?” asks Gau, as though he could be at all refused, and Raikou comes undone with a wounded whine that shakes through his teeth, tumbling into the arms that open for him and wiping his wet face all over dark hair rumpled with a sleep long overdue for waking.

Later, later Raikou will bite kisses into every inch of skin that Gau possesses, between toes and in the hollows of wrists and the slope of thighs; unwinding in the shells of ears and trembling on eyelashes and pointed to the peaks of bony elbows; onto the mouth and the lips and the breath that shapes his name with all the benediction of melting afternoon light through the last sunshower of summer; but most importantly across the livid streak of scar tissue that bisects a thin and breathing, breathing, _breathing_ chest, and with a tenderness so excruciating it is unbearable in its sweetness for them both.

But for now he cries and cries and _cries_ , shaking apart in the arms that wind around his back like a guarding rope across the cliff’s edge, and breathes in great gulping shudders that taste like petrichor – like much-needed rain on hot and arid earth – like _forgiveness_.

**Author's Note:**

> This is all Nick's fault and he knows what he did. (I have the sinking feeling I'm going to have to keep writing for this AU...)


End file.
